


So I cut off their limbs

by MyDaedricGravemind



Category: Dead Space (video game)
Genre: Angst, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Regret, THIS WORK IS NOT ABANDONED. ITS A FREE TIME PROJECT, pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDaedricGravemind/pseuds/MyDaedricGravemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Good men mean well. We just don't always end up doing well."<br/>-Isaac</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

3 years before...Titan Medical station.

 

`

 

He breathed heavily, the stench of blood and gore and bile and rotting body fluids still raping his nostrals and throat. He tasted it and like everything else he couldnt escape it.  
Was he dead?

 

`

 

Session 12

 

_"Patient 1544C. Clarke, Isaac. 46 years of age. Formerly employed as an engineer by the Concordence Extraction Corperation, is this all correct?"_

He wrings his helpless hands anxiously. Both arms wrapped tight around his middle, cacooned in white. He bobs his head soothingly and doesn't answer.

Its the only thing he's free to move.

The voices singing in his head sound like a damn chorus, a cacophony of the dead things from all around and inside him. They wail and cry--Pleading Isaac to do or say things for them...for their families and loved ones; last words but he just can't--he cant help them. 'I dont know you--' he tells them. 'You're dead. You're all dead--Im sorry!' They wail louder, the sound of bloodied fists beating on hollow walls only gets louder. Isaac closes his eyes, shaking his head like a dog to try to clear them out. But shaking triggers a nausious nerve wave and the insides of his eye lids flash with red letters--letters written in the blood of the innocent-

_"1544C. Mr. Clarke can you hear me?"_

He shakes his head and moans loudly. "..make it stop.. Please.. it's them again. Make it stop.." He begs for help--for anuthing but they won't help him.

They never do. Instead they say.

_"You know-Mr. Clarke-that its all up to you to make it stop. We can't stop it. You can. And one of the surest ways to make anything stop is to let it out, now...tell me what you see."_

The patient wrings his arms again, wrestling his shoulders side to side, trying to get away, to free himself. He can't help answering-

"It's help I want but I just cant remember..I want to but I can't. All I see is things I dont understand! But.." he struggles, babbling on. "But then--like a heartbeat later--its the only thing I know..."

They encourage him to continue, even though the the patient loses coherance, rambling.

"--I..I..see letters...numbers-symbols..things I need-people...words and-and.." He weaves back and forth, as if he were waving his hands to describe this abstract idea. "It wants me to do somthing-I...I just...fuck-! I dont know what the hell it is....please-" He begs again.  "Please just help me."

 _"Is that all, Mr. Clarke?"_   They ignore his panic.

 "Look--you'd know better then me, alright..?"   But the voices whispering surged suddenly at the mention of the message; they all seem to understand and were trying to make Isaac understand too. But their voices were all wailing all at once, their cries and voices ache in his head--his head hangs and he moans, "..make it stop..."

Their screams of terror, helplessness and pain clamor with in the fractured lining of his skull. The gutteral shouts and shrieks of men and women make his ears feel like bleeding--the roots of his teeth spike sharply. It was all he could do to not vomit..

"Please just make it stop!" He begged louder, he didn't even hear what the man said said because its all growing louder inside and in his head he starts seeing bloodstained walls and bodies everywhere--suddenly he's no longer wrapped in this..fucking white jacket--where his arms can't fucking move--

He can hear them in the vents and feel blood caking his face. He see the dead halls of the Ishmura and he whips his head around frantically-

"I know this isn't real--I know this isn't real--"

He prays those words a thousand times over to anyone listening but the more he says it the more vivid the sounds. He opens his eyes and shakes his head frantically but he cant break out of it. He doesnt feel the men shaking him, trying to disrupt the spell. He's just stick in the abyss of his mind, screaming as it all rushed red and drown him.

"Shit! I can feel it-" (blood soaking down his collar--)" I fucking feel it all!" (Little hands scratching at his neck--) "FUCK!" (His gut torn open and bloodied monster's heads cramming their vicious mouths into his open screaming innerds--)

"Make it stop!!!!" He's thrashing wildly outside but inside the nightmare changes. He's standing alone again, unarmed as he hears them get closer; the bangs in the walls the wails of the monsters and creatures dragging closer...

"Isaac, what do you see?" The cold voice breaks threw.

Isaac looks up to the voice but can't see anyone but the ship. The man asks again and he's able to answer. "Its dark.. Its uh! Oh.. there was a flash of blinding white..Oh shit--they're all around me. Theyre surrounding me and staring down into my head. They heard the voices too and they want to take their souls again. Fuck.."

"Keep talking. What do you see?"

"Deformed. Theyre all deformed and dripping in fresh blood..oh shit. Its blood and the vomit. This is so fucked up... their bodies are so fucked up..." his voice cracks. All he sees is their disembodied heads and faces froze into dead expressions of terror.

"Shit-" Suddenly squeaks out of him instead of air, but the dead things are still and not moving. Waiting.

 _"Mr. Clarke-"_   The man's voices begin to fade away. He trys to answer him but then-

_"-Isaac"_

The voice echoes in his mind with the whisper of a dread ghost. His stomach contracts so fucking hard he's ready to throw his own heart up at this point but he's shaking so hard. He doesn't turn around.

"...you're not real-" He's whispering fervently. But his head echoes with her voice, he knows she knows he doesn't believe it.

IT knows.

 _"Isaac"_    He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "You're not real..."

Just then an errie light glows behind him, reflecting on all their faces; grotesque and deformed they're almost unbearable to look at. Isaac feels hot tears leaking down his face but he can't move. The dream freezes him in place, then the whispers begin again.. singing a tune he knew, playing the songs that haunts his veins. "I don't want to..I have to.."

He turns slowly. Breathless. Twisting his head to see anything at that angle...

And she's is right there-right fucking there! Her glowing eyes an inch from his fucking face-- the sudden horror crushes his bitter sick breath in his chest as she screams-

_"MAKE ME WHOLE!!!!!!"_

 

`

 

Isaac wakes up screaming. Terror tearing him up and away from where he had laid, his head collides into somthing above him. He twists and throws his free hands out in front of him and finds the shallow dome of his sleeping capsule. His breath ragged he pushes against it. "Hello? Hello? Is anybody there-please? I..I-fuck- can I please just.." He punches at the 3 by 3 plexglass window to his right.

"HEY!" He screams again, covered in a bitter sweat. "Can sombody fucking answer me?!"

But no one does. They never do.

His whole body quakes with fear and pain. The capsule allows barely 2 1/2ft of room top to bottom so he can't even sit up. His bare feet kick at the bottom of his sleep cell he's alone in and he screams again for help. The suffacating feeling of 'you're trapped' and 'they're coming' clutch him in mortal terror, fucking his self preservative instincts with this helpless isolation.

"HEY!!" He kicked hollowly at the foot of it. "Let me the fuck out of here-they're coming!"

Isaac's hands are braced on the window and his shoulders firm against the mat beneath him. Still breathing heavy he trys to pop out the glass or crack it-or somthing- when a face enters the view of the tiny window. A white mask covers its nose and mouth and its goggled eyes stare in at him.

Isaac freezes, stareing back in shock. Suddenly remembering a wash of red and white. Blood on med room sheets. Pale cold skin dripping with...blood. The...the...Ishmura.

He gasps- the memories he couldnt before remember crashing through his mind. "Shit!" He barks and pulls back and away, craming himself against the side of his cell. "Get the fuck away from me!" He screams at it, his fists balled desperatly. He remembers so clearly the floors strewn with bodies, the smell, the sickness- the walls of the med staff offices littered-almost decorated- with their experiments between 'ne-...necro..' Isaac shudders violently. 'Nec-romorph..and hu-man...'

The pictures, the files...tests on unborn embryos and young fetus'. Their abominations- crawling on the walls and Isaac moans in grief and horror as he remembers grasping thier 'tenticles' and tearing them limb from limb. He clutches the sides of the capsule, assaulted by the sounds of them and their deathscreams-the sounds of him crushing their bones...and the blood again-

"GET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Isaac hysterically screams again and again, kicking at the sides of his prison bruising his heels and nuckles.

The face just stared at him and his antics. Calm and cold. And when the patient showed no sign of slowing or stopping, it reached a gloved hand over and tapped a control. A hazy gas seeped inside, filtering from everyside of the patient 1544C and strangled his violence.

'what am I doing here...?' Isaac's last thoughts twisting into a decontamination chamber and he knew where his dreams were, would give him no peace. Then he was snuffed out into the dark void.

 

`


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Somtimes the appropriate response to reality, is to go insane."  
> -Phillip K. Dick

 

Session 32

 

Isaac was slumped in his reinforced seat while the man across from him tryed to get him to focus his numbed attention on the images and symbols in front of him.

He cringes from them. "Get away from me."

The man patiently persisted, pushing them closer and when Isaac tryed to move further away, the 'assistent' behind him braced his shoulders; keeping him forward.

Isaac whined and looked away. "..fuck- _please_ -"

"-No, Mr. Clarke.." The man's voice spoke his name with what Isaac thought was a mockery...or was it an envy?

"You see, you are the _only one_ who knows what these mean...that is an honor; a duty and you owe it to humanity and her colonys to give us answers. Information-now I'm not asking the world of you-is it really so hard?" He spoke as if to a child, and with the dosage of benzodiazepine and other supressants in his system, Isaac wasn't capable of understanding much more above that level.

"I...I...don't..want to. I..I...I can't-" His head bobbled, shaking from the psycholagical 'highlighters' they were using to "-spruce up his memory. His recollection..." His leg keeps drumming against the table but they don't seem to mind.

They will painstakingly endure anything to discover what he knew.

The man leans forward as if in compassion. "-I know you don't want to but it isn't your choice. You see, Isaac, we all at some point, have to do things we dont want to do-and it hurts us somtimes; our pride, our ego or in your case, your wish for anomnity. You aren' that same 'nobody' you once were Isaac- you are- something more now. And we _need_ you. Help us."

Isaac couldn't stop the shaking and the tremers, he didn't even understand what the man had said, he only heard the first sentance. '-it isn't your choice.' He wanted to scream but he didn't have the strength of will to. He felt like a child.

One more look at those pictures and he pushed away again. "..no-" He whimpered.

The man sighed impatiently and nodded to the assistent. "Just a bit more."

Isaac's gut lurched.

"N-oddammi-No!!" His scream slurred and gutteral, he shoved away- throwing himself backward out of the chair. The surprised assistent immediatly dove ontop of him and crushed him to the floor. Isaac screamed for help to no one in particular-just any body! Please-

-but he felt the prick of the needle in his neck and it was over.

His head immediatly throbbed and his vision flashed bright then split in two- the dark visions then twisted and spiraled, coming together and became one before him. The vision, whole now, echoed voiceless words through his mind.

He heard IT speak- the allknowing **Marker...**..

 

`

 

< Playback Audio Log> [After incident report]

_"We just can't find out how to get him to talk._

_After a minor dosage miscalculation followed by a violent memory revival with subject 4, we had to return him back to stasis and are further-not closer, to a solution to our problem._

_It's just....we're activating the wrong parts of the subjects minds and it could have inexcusable consiquences if we aren't careful._

_I've been studing MRI and Xray sheets-blueprints- of all the subjects brain and nerve patterns, trying so hard to understand the simularities and then the sublte differences that made up each individual._

_They each have a unique touch to the plan and how to fufil the roles the plan's authors had made for them. They each also have their own unique particularities that made those plans very, very difficult to bring to fruitation._

_{sigh} Even more testing._

_We'll start with 1. She's just a babbling mess of Unitologist garble and hystaria, occasionally screaching a lullabye of some sort. A mess- but a mess that will teach us how to clean up the others and hopfully make this project worth while..."_

<End Audio Log>

 

`

After a succession of Tests 0051,0052, 0055, and 0057...

 

"Now were getting somwhere..." The man tightened the device around subject 4's head piece, as he lay in a kenisis operation panelpad, his wieght suspended but himself immovable. His heart/resperation rate and BP were all over the wire but stable enough.

Just how they liked it.

The observers all held their breath as the machanically controlled arms and extentions began to prod at 4's head. He shouted at them- swearing futily and cursing - but they paid him no attention, the probs begining to shave off the subjects hair, revealing his skull which trapped his precious mind...

The subject began screaming for them to stop but the machines kept to their work until his whole head gleamed. The observers leaned forward in anticipation, their log recorders handy and a few of them already being whispered into.

The directiong surgion gripped his control panel, adjusting the most precise of calculations; making most certain that no permanent harm came to the subject. He was their key to it all.

The surgion pressed a permission release then twisted a knob slowly. The moniter blinked green as it began to steadily feed data and text to the goggled display of subject 4. In response he writhed in obvious discomfort, heart rate and BP raising higher.

The surgion then grasped his joystick and slowly eased the mechanical arms closer. They pricked the bare skull and secured it firmly as the laser extentions glowed warmly. The subject fidgeted slowly, growing numbed from the digital feed washing directly into his optic nerves, triggering a transic and passive state of mind.

The laser grew hot and ready as the subject's brain blueprint lit to the right patterns. A second per second flash scan fed the results into the surgion's moniter; all the observers murmering to each other breathlessly as they waited for the climax. 'Could this be it? Could he be the one?'

The subject tensed tightly, his bio readings flickering as if alive of their own will, just as they mimicked the optic feeds-the symbols- the equations- the toning underlining everything, now synonomous with the subject's mind.

The surgion squeezed the trigger and the laser burst out, penetrating deep inside 4's cerebrum, securing it. The manipulation contorted the data of the subject's brain patterns, the lines and colors scrawling out of the moniter's boundries to which 4 twisted violently, choking out a continuous gutteration. The scans reading that the beam's alignment was perfectly central-like the axis of a nutritous rich planet.

That so, the surgion activated the central intra cranial kenisis modulater, and the short wave kenisis beams gripped various but select points in that beautiful, nervous centeral organ of his-then began to attempt-

-to gently _re-arange_ patient 1544C's brain.

 

<

 

 


End file.
